


523.8

by mothwrites



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, Crew as Family, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: Scenes from Goddard Inc's takeover of the Hephaestus; an independent, space-themed public library. Plus; Hilbert’s catnip, drunk trivia nights, Dewey Decimal spot-checks, Hera's demon mom, Stampy the roomba, and the continuing mystery of Jacobi's actual job title.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to library au! Special thanks go to the world's best Wolf 359 group chat friends, (@witchyvisions, @purposeandregret, @psychic-waffles, and @anthonvstrk on tumblr) for also being the best fic cheerleaders and providing me with so many great headcanons for this au.  
> More chapters will follow, but unfortunately it's essay deadline month AND Camp NaNoWriMo this April. Enjoy part one!  
> (There is some dialogue from actual episodes of Wolf 359 scattered in this fic, which I don't own and am just borrowing.)

**_Hephaestus Library Personnel Report_ **

**_Written by Dr Alexander Hilbert for Warren Kepler, Goddard Inc._ **

_Head Librarian: Renée Minkowski_

_Subject Librarian (History): Isabel Lovelace_

_Subject Librarian (Medical): Alexander Hilbert_

_Systems Librarian: Hera Price_

_Library Assistant (Community Service Worker): Douglas Eiffel_

**_Additional Roles_ **

_Community Service Supervisor and Designated First Aider: Alexander Hilbert_

_Fire Safety Officer: Isabel Lovelace_

_Social Media Communications: Douglas Eiffel_

_Pest Control: Plant Monster_

 

The Hephaestus Library had been recently purchased by the Goddard Institute. It was a state-of-the-art institution with a specialist team of expert librarians, an entire floor dedicated to the conservation and digitisation of manuscripts, and the finest collection of space-themed literature and textbooks in America.

Or at least: it was going to be. The Hephaestus _proper_ was currently a well-loved public library that had a feral cat who had moved in to the corner of the office, a book train that often ran people over, and a Roomba that had self-inking library stamps attached to its sides.

“It’s called Stampy,” volunteer library assistant Doug Eiffel informed Director Kepler on his first day of overseeing the Goddard takeover. “Watch your ankles.”

“What’s the cat called?” Jacobi asked dryly, from just behind Kepler.

“PM,” Eiffel replied immediately. “Short for Plant Monster.”

“Why?”

“Because it came here after Hilbert planted catnip in the garden area, and it’s a _monster._ ”

“All right, enough,” Kepler almost growled, wishing he’d had the foresight to pack more migraine pills into his work bag. “Go… shelve something.” He turned to Jacobi and Maxwell, who both had equal looks of surprise and confusion on their face.

“I think this might be a bigger job than we expected,” Maxwell said slowly. “Did you two _see_ the robotics system in the basement? Or that half-built shuttle simulation in the garden? That thing is a _fire hazard._ ”

“It’s a miracle the whole building hasn’t burned down,” Jacobi replied, nodding solemnly. “Or possibly a shame. Why the hell does Cutter want this place anyway?”

“I didn’t ask,” Kepler said. “Now play nice, you two. For now. Maxwell, get down to the conservation department and see what you can make of it. And Jacobi?”

“Yes, sir?”

An unpleasant smile turned the corners of Kepler’s mouth as he surveyed the first floor of the library. “Catch that cat.”

Jacobi groaned and hung his head, earning a laugh and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Maxwell as Kepler walked away. “This is going to be fun,” he said grimly. “I can tell.” He sighed, shrugged, and made his way to the office. Turning back to Maxwell as he did, he called back, “Watch your ankles.”

“Huh?” She was answered immediately by a wet sensation on her bare skin, and realised she’d run into ‘Stampy’. “Oh, God damn it.” The fresh red ink on her ankle showed some concentric circles that she supposed represented a planet or a star, and the words _Hephaestus Library._

“I _will_ reprogram you,” she threatened, before stalking away and trying to ignore the muffled chuckling of Minkowski, restocking the periodicals on the other side of the room.

“Keep an eye on Maxwell for me,” Minkowski murmured through a gap in the shelves, to where Eiffel was tidying the children’s fiction display. “Make sure she doesn’t freak Hera out, okay?”

“On it, Commander,” Eiffel replied. “Oh, hey, do you have to go for one of those review thingys?”

Minkowski raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“I’m a volunteer,” he shrugged. “Can’t criticise someone you’re not paying.”

“I _beg_ to differ,” Minkowski said dryly. Eiffel was the most… _interesting_ member of her library staff. And by interesting, she meant: difficult, loud, and occasionally completely incompetent. But the kids loved him, and he’d raised their social media profile to unprecedented levels after she’d reluctantly granted him a probationary period of control over “library communications”.

And like he said: he was a volunteer. They needed all the help they could get.

Eiffel finished straightening out the picture books and half-jokingly saluted Minkowski as he turned to go. “Oh: wait!” he called back, and then dropped the volume of his voice at her exasperated - but in no way surprised – death-glare. “387,” he continued in a whisper.

Minkowski thought for a second, and replied: “water, air, and space transportation.”

“Damn it. 597.”

“Cold water invertebrates and fishes.”

“795!”

She grinned. “Games of chance. Were you feeling _lucky?_ ”

Eiffel threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “One day I’ll get you, you Dewey Decimal fascist,” he grumbled, and walked off to join Maxwell and Hera in the basement.

*

“There are only three things you need to know about this place,” Lovelace announced as she sat down for her review. “Firstly: Eiffel is not allowed to ride the book train.”

Kepler paused, holding his coffee cup in mid-air. He’d poured one for her too, and it sat in front of a magnetic chess set he’d taken from the children’s area. “Is… _anyone_ allowed to ‘ride’ the book train?”

“No,” she clarified. “But Eiffel is the only one who’s ever tried.”

“Noted,” Kepler said, making an honest-to-god note on his Goddard-issued tablet. “What are things two and three?”

“Two,” Lovelace said, counting off on her fingers: “don’t trust a word that Hilbert says. Ever.”

Kepler nodded. “Agreed.”

“Three,” she continued, looking him dead in the eyes: “I know, and will _always_ know this place better than you. I know it better than _anyone._ Even Minkowski, who once chased that stupid cat through the vents for an entire weekend. So don’t try me.”

Kepler took a long drink of coffee, and then set his cup down. “Very interesting,” he said. “You know, you yourself are a very interesting case, Isabel. Can I call you Isabel? Or do you prefer ‘Lovelace’? Or ‘captain’? I hear Eiffel calls you that. You were in the air force, after all, and that’s your right.”

“Eiffel also calls Minkowski ‘commander’,” Lovelace informed him. “He likes to use space flight lingo. He’ll probably find a title for you too. But ‘Lovelace’ is fine.”

“Lovelace,” Kepler repeated, confirming. “What made you take a job here at the library? Someone with your space flight experience…”

“Has had more than enough of space,” Lovelace said pointedly, her fierce glare getting even fiercer. “My old job has nothing to do with my _current_ job, so will that be all?”

“Not quite,” Kepler said. The pleasant smile hadn’t left his face as he stared down her increasingly irritate expression. The distinct _calmness_ of him unnerved her. “Do you play chess?”

*

“I don’t want you messing with my system,” Hera said doubtfully the second that Maxwell walked into the basement office that connected to one of the laboratories. Her arms were pushed tightly into the pockets of her jeans, and she shifted her weight awkwardly as she talked; kicking her heels and looking generally uncomfortable. “Everything is based on an extremely exact series of routines that I created myself. It’s _complicated._ And I don’t want it changed.”

“Uh. Wow.” Maxwell had barely heard her. Part of her was too busy staring at the incredibly messy and ridiculously _large_ computer set-up of the systems librarian, and the other part was too busy staring at the systems librarian herself; an extremely pretty, petite girl with bright white hair and big silver glasses. “Hi?”

“Hi,” Hera said, in a short and perfunctory manner. “I don’t want you messing with my system. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Maxwell said weakly, and then straightened herself out. She was a _Goddard_ employee, damn it, and she was damn well going to act like one. “Yeah. Sure. If you _don’t_ want faster services, better robots to carry out your very important routines, and a computer set-up that doesn’t look like the set of a spaceship on a bad 80’s sci-fi movie set… I’ll just be on my way. Remind me, exactly how many manuscripts have been damaged in the past year due to robot malfunctions?”

Hera coloured bright pink, and scowled. She fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt, which was paired with an oversized cardigan. “I don’t have to answer that.”

“Mm, you’re right: you don’t have to. Because I already know.” She waved the tablet she carried everywhere with her. “We know everything about this place. Did Minkowski ever get over that first edition of Hershel’s _Astronomy_ with the ripped cover?”

“ _No_ ,” Hera ground out. “But that was one time!”

“Hera,” Maxwell said patiently, sitting down next to her. She was quickly learning that teasing wouldn’t get her very far. “I want to help. I’m _here_ to help. Can we start fresh?”

Hera shrank back, blinking behind her round glasses. For the first time, Maxwell realised just how _young_ she was: fresh out of college with a newly-minted information science degree and the weight of the entire library’s electronic system on her shoulders.

“You’re just going to report everything back to my mom,” Hera said eventually. “So no, Dr Maxwell. We can’t start _fresh._ ”

It was Maxwell’s turn to blink in surprise. “Your mom?”

“Miranda Price?”

“ _Oh._ ” Maxwell suddenly realised where she’d seen those piercing blue eyes before: it was the white hair and circuit-style tattoos peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves of the other woman’s cardigan that had distracted her. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know.”

Hera didn’t seem convinced, and Maxwell couldn’t blame her. Miranda Price was a demon of a woman. “I promise I didn’t,” she said. “And I wouldn’t give her a cup of old coffee, let alone _reports_ on you _,_ or whatever it is you’re scared of.”

“So… she didn’t send you here to spy on me?” Hera asked doubtfully, fidgeting with her library-ID lanyard and not meeting Maxwell’s gaze. “She thinks I can’t do this. That I’m not _good enough_. So when Goddard bought the library, I thought…”

“I can’t say I know exactly what their motivations were,” Maxwell told her honestly. “I just go where I’m sent. But I promise: she’ll get nothing from me. All I want to do is help. And build kick-ass library robots,” she added, hoping that the other girl would crack a smile. “I am _dying_ to see the drones in your low-oxygen room for the precious manuscripts.”

Hera graced her with a slight smile. “They _are_ pretty cool,” she said. “I could use some help with a certain model that keeps flying into the doors. If you’re any good at that kind of thing.”

Maxwell grinned, and extended her arm. “Dr Alana Maxwell,” she said. “PhD in robotics and computer science. At your service.”

Hera shook her hand. “Hera Price,” she said, and felt herself warming up to the other woman. “MSc. I guess I _might_ have a use for you.”

Maxwell laughed. “Good to hear.” She was interrupted by excessively loud footsteps, and saw Hera smile in the direction of the door, which opened to reveal Doug Eiffel waving as he walked into the basement.

“Eiffel,” Hera said happily. “What brings you down to the basement unscheduled?”

“Just checking on my favourite girl,” he grinned, reaching over to ruffle Hera’s hair. “Making sure you get your allotted daily hour of sunlight! Coffee break?”

“Maybe in a bit,” she said, ducking away from Eiffel’s hand with a grin. “I’m going to show Dr Maxwell the precious manuscripts room. So, you might wanna…”

“Gotcha,” Eiffel said, clicking his fingers. “I’ll make sure to drag you away when you eventually get too distracted and pass out.”

“Has that actually happened before?” Maxwell asked, alarmed.

“No!” Hera said, while Eiffel replied: “almost”.

Maxwell noticed that he had started to look at her strangely. They were expecting resistance from the Hephaestus crew, but Eiffel had greeted both her and Jacobi in a relatively friendly manner: he even asked them about their work and seemed interested enough in her reply. It was Hera he was protective of, she realised. This strange, anxious girl who worked in the basement. He’d come down to check on her, and to check that Maxwell wasn’t doing… what, exactly?

“May I escort you ladies downstairs?” he asked, motioning towards the staircase that led to the manuscript sub-basement.

Hera giggled and took his arm. As they passed and Maxwell followed, he shot her a warning look, and she resolved to find out everything she could about the enigmatic systems librarian.

*

Jacobi consulted his Very Official Clipboard and then looked at the Hephaestus’s medical texts librarian with a quizzical glance. “Why exactly is the stray cat listed on this official personnel report?”

“She does excellent work,” Hilbert replied, deadpan. He’d made his irritation with Jacobi coming into his space clear, but the other man had failed to take the hint. “I prepared this report for Director Kepler. Not…” he narrowed his eyes at Jacobi. “What exactly _is_ your job title?”

“Mm-hm,” Jacobi responded, still reading and ignoring him. He flicked from one page to the other, and then back again. “There are inconsistencies between your report to Goddard and the official staff roster.”

“Such as?”

“Eiffel’s listed as a ‘volunteer’ on one, and a ‘community service worker’ on the other.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, which one’s true?”

Reluctantly, Hilbert inclined his head towards the report Jacobi was currently scanning. “The report to Director Kepler is truthful. The report that goes to Minkowski contains… a little white lie.”

“I see.” Jacobi surveyed him, as if trying to discern his actual thoughts. “Why? Why bother keeping it a secret?” At Hilbert’s continued silence, he huffed out an amused chuckle. “Wow. Don’t tell me you’re, like… fond of him? _You?_ My, haven’t things changed.” He continued to laugh quietly as Hilbert made no reply. 

“Will that be all?” Hilbert ground out.

“Mmm, _nope._ ” Jacobi looked up from the report as something moved in his peripheral vision. “Ah. There it is.”

Plant Monster made straight for Hilbert, weaving in and out of his legs and meowing. Still scowling at Jacobi, Hilbert bent down and gave it a scratch behind the ears. _“She,_ ” Hilbert corrected him.

Jacobi took out his phone, and called the number he’d Googled an hour before. “Whatever. It’s _her_ last day.”

*

_Knock, knock._

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Lovelace smiled as she recognised the voice. “Permission granted, Officer Price.”

There was a giggle, and then Hera poked her head around the open ‘door’ of the simulator shuttle, carrying a plastic bag over one wrist and a cup of coffee in her other hand, which she passed to Lovelace.

Lovelace took a grateful sip, from a mug that read ‘Libraries: Where _Sssh_ Happens’. “Thanks, Hera. You okay?”

“Mmm,” Hera said noncommittally as she perched on one of the flight seats. “I just needed some space. I do _like_ Dr Maxwell, but…”

“But she’s invaded your space,” Lovelace said, an understanding tone in her voice. She didn’t like sharing her ‘shuttle time’ either, but with Hera it was different. She thought back to the hour before lunch that day, where she’d overheard Kepler telling the others that it was ridiculous for the systems librarian to have an entire office to herself, and Eiffel and Minkowski had rounded on him for the first time. _She needs her own space,_ Eiffel had defended passionately, but Kepler hadn’t listened.

Lovelace laid a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder and squeezed gently. She understood Hera’s need for space better than anyone. They didn’t share the same mental health issues, but her PTSD and Hera’s anxiety were easily understood by the both of them, especially in times where it seemed like no-one else did. They stayed in a comfortable silence as Hera ate her lunch and Lovelace intermittently sipped her coffee in between bouts of wiring.  She liked to work on the old simulation in her lunch breaks, and in the summer she was never short of extra helping hands from the kids in Eiffel’s summer reading program, but after years of work it was still more of a playground shelter than a functional simulation.

Eiffel had once got stuck in the thing overnight, and claimed that he’d ‘nearly died of frostbite’, despite it being late April at the time.

There was another knock, and after a call of assent from Lovelace, Minkowski stepped into the shuttle with Eiffel trailing behind her. Normally she would object to people crowding her lunch break time, but it had been a strange week for all of them, and she didn’t blame them for wanting to hang out with the familiar crew.

“Plant Monster’s gone,” Eiffel said glumly from where he’d flopped down next to Hera. “Hilbert’s in mourning.”

Lovelace choked on her coffee. “They _killed_ it?”

“No,” Minkowski said, rolling her eyes at Eiffel. “Jacobi took her to a shelter.”

“She wasn’t _hurting_ anyone,” Eiffel said, mournful.

“Eiffel, you used to complain about that cat all the time!”

“ _But everything’s changing now,_ ” he groaned, leaning his forehead against Hera’s shoulder. “What about Maxwell, Hera? Is she messing up your space too?”

“Not exactly,” Hera sighed. “She’s actually making a lot of useful improvements! It’s just… a lot to take in. She’s always _there_ and I don’t wanna glitch in front of her and freak her out.”

“You can come and glitch out with me,” Eiffel reassured her gently, referring to the panic attacks that he’d helpfully re-nicknamed for her years ago to make her smile. “Any time.”

“Thanks, Doug.” Hera leaned against him companionably, and the others smiled. They spent the rest of their lunch hour as if nothing in the workplace had ever changed; chatting, teasing each-other, Eiffel spot-testing Minkowski on the Dewey Decimal System and Lovelace making sarcastic comments as she worked. At 2pm, she sighed, and closed her toolbox.

“All right, kids. Time to go.”

They got to their feet reluctantly and filed out, ready to cross the five or so yard across the garden area to the back exit of the library. At the doorway of the shuttle, Eiffel took Minkowski’s arm.

“Commander?” He shuffled his feet in the grass after he caught her attention. “I, uh, I just wanted to check: is it still cool for me to lead the reading program this summer? Cause it starts in like, two weeks, and I just wanted to make sure that like, the new management hadn’t changed anything, or…”

Minkowski stopped his rambling before it could get any worse. “Of course you are,” she reassured him confidently, although she was a little confused. “Who else is going to do it, _Kepler?_ The kids would run screaming.”

“Yeah. Hah.” His laugh was short and nervous. “I just wanted to check, because, well… I got a visit.”

It took a moment for Minkowski to decipher what on earth he was talking about, and then she smiled as it registered with her. “With Anne?”

“Yeah,” he said again, smiling himself. “Like, _heavily_ supervised. I think I actually need to get you to sign off on it too. And Hilbert. And maybe Kepler? I don’t even know at this point. But Kate’s agreed to bring her to the program if everything’s cool at this end, and then…”

“I’ll make sure it is,” she promised him. “Although I don’t see why you need me to sign anything if Kate’s okay with it all. You don’t really need my say-so to bring your daughter on site.”

Eiffel nodded. “Right.” His smile was still the same, but he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Right! So… that’s all cool then! Man, T-minus two weeks. I can’t believe it.”

“I’m happy for you.” As they started walking again, back to the library, Minkowski frowned. “Hang on. Why do you need _Hilbert’s_ say-so?”

“I don’t,” Eiffel said quickly, incrementally speeding up. “Hey, should we invite the new kids to quiz night on Friday?”

*

The bartender of the 359 on Wolf Street waved in acknowledgment as the Hephaestus library team, 10x winners of the weekly quiz night, trooped in.

“This place is… nice,” Kepler said, with an approving, if surprised, tone. Classical music played over the speakers, and he listened appreciatively as he watched his new team dive straight for a particular table that was close enough to the bar to be convenient, but far enough away that they could talk comfortably. They seemed at home there, in the strange blue-and-red painted décor, next to pinball machines and trailing plants in hanging baskets. Jacobi and Maxwell went to join them, curiosity and the order to ‘play nice’ heavy in their minds. Kepler took a few steps back, and turned away.

He returned with the first round; white wine for Hera, sodas for Eiffel and Jacobi, and whiskey for everyone else. He shrugged off the surprised thanks from everyone gracefully. It had been a long week for all of them.

“So,” he said, eyeing the as-of-yet blank answer sheet. “Team name?”

“It changes every few weeks, based on whatever inside joke’s running through the library,” Eiffel said. “We started off with _Really Loud Pinball Machines_. Then it was _The Midnight Society_.”

“And then it was _Holy Hand Grenades_ ,” Hera chimed in.

“Don’t forget _Team Desperate_ ,” Lovelace added.

“ _Hitchcock Antagonists_ ,” Minkowski said with a smile. “Oh wait, _What’s Wrong With Handcuffs?_ That was a good one.”

“ _Zibbeldy-Dibbeldy_ is still a personal favourite,” Hera said, with a smile at Eiffel.

Eiffel grinned back, then shot a more mischievous smile at Hilbert. “Aww, remember _The Floppy, Hoppy Bunnies_? And then what was after that, Doc…?”

Hilbert rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “ _Real Cool Pop Culture People_ , I believe.”

Lovelace, who had been tapping on her phone, spoke up again. “Found it. Last week we were _Insights from Doug Eiffel._ We definitely need a new one.”

“I liked the thing you called us yesterday morning,” Jacobi said, leveling a smirk at Eiffel. “What was it? _The Dick Dastardly Administration?_ ”

There was a pause as the original librarians and assistants of the Hephaestus exchanged glances with each other. Jacobi leaned back in his chair, taking a triumphant sip of cola. Maxwell elbowed him, and mouthed, ‘ _play nice?’_.

Kepler laughed, breaking the awkward silence. “I like it,” he said. “Does anyone have a pen?”

*

“Doc,” Eiffel said in surprise, as Hilbert almost walked past him on the way out of the bar. The quiz was long over, but last call wouldn’t be for another few hours. Eiffel, on a cigarette break, was stood just outside the doorway. “You leaving already?”

Hilbert nodded. “I have things to attend to at home.” He finished pulling his coat around him.

“Time-sensitive experiment?” Eiffel guessed. “Busy night of organising your index cards? Babysitting?”

Hilbert sighed. “If you must know, I… recently adopted a pet.”

The grin that spread across Eiffel’s face was instantaneous. “Is it a floppy, hoppy bunny? _Please_ tell me it’s a bunny. That’s too good.”

“Again, not that it’s your business, but…” Hilbert averted his gaze as he spoke. “It is a cat.”

Eiffel nearly dropped his cigarette. “ _You didn’t,_ ” he stated, his mouth a round ‘o’ of surprise. “You did! You rescued Plant Monster?”

“Da,” Hilbert nodded. “And now we will never speak of it again. _Never,_ Eiffel,” he stressed, seeing his library assistant about to crack from stifling a laugh. “Ah,” he remembered. “Before I go, do you have a form for me to give to your parole officer?”

Eiffel’s face changed immediately. “Oh, right. I put it on your desk. Kate’s already signed it, so it just needs my supervisor’s OK. Is that… okay?”

Hilbert nodded again. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said, before walking away. Eiffel watched him leave with a strange feeling of both trepidation and excitement in his gut. Before he could let himself dwell on it, he put out his cigarette, and went to join his team.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, questions? Ship preferences? Come chat to me @patsywxlker on tumblr. Thanks to everyone who's already got involved!  
> 


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